Chapter 2822 Re-bottling

"...Right now, the cultural market on the mainland is the Sahara Desert, thirsting for a downpour of arts and entertainment!"

The dearth of entertainment was something every Senator who had immersed themselves in native commoner life understood intimately. Those of slightly older generations, particularly those who had come from rural areas or remote county towns, had personally experienced the severe deprivation of spiritual and cultural life.

During the slack farming seasons, people would gather to chat idly, gamble, or visit the market—and that was roughly the sum of rural entertainment. When traveling film projection teams came to show movies, or when wedding and funeral hosts hired performers, it was considered a major artistic event. Visiting town or the county seat to watch some well-worn film that had been screened countless times before was something that happened perhaps once or twice a year. As for buying books, magazines, or even newspapers—that required a trip to town or the county seat.

This deprivation was like drought-stricken land. Any artistic work poured into it, so long as it did not exceed their comprehension, would be absorbed indiscriminately—with especially obvious effects.

In the seventeenth century, the situation was similar. Of course, the turbulent, disordered north and central regions had more pressing survival needs. But Ming still possessed quite a few peaceful areas. In these regions with relatively stable social order, where commoners could manage to scrape by, there remained a certain demand for spiritual life.

Cultural products manufactured in serialized-drama mode could be updated regularly. Language-based arts could practically follow current events, subtly paving the way for the Senate. Dingding painted this picture for the Council of State: In teahouses and theaters throughout Ming's cities, at storytelling stands in township markets, tens of thousands of grassroots performers would use various folk art forms to tell artistic works approved by the Senate one or two months prior.

It was indeed a beautiful picture, and it immediately captured the leaders' attention. The special nature of cultural products lay in their self-propagating quality. Once a certain coverage was achieved in a region, they would spread spontaneously—unstoppable.

Seeing that his vision had succeeded in captivating them, Dingding was greatly encouraged and immediately added fuel to the fire. In terms of content, the two principles of "Promote the happy life in Australia-Song, reflect the dark rule of Ming" were subdivided into multiple themed serialized dramas. Tales of the Amazing Kun was a series of criminal investigation stories, using plots to embody Australia-Song's advanced justice, investigation, and trial systems, inducing audiences to resonate with "This would be another miscarriage of justice in Ming," and fantasize about "Australia-Song is the world of light and justice." Pleasant Village Stories was a comedy reflecting rural life, taking the path of replacing scholar-beauty romances with rustic love stories, but whose details revealed just how different Australia-Song's countryside was: three meals of unlimited rice daily, rice yields of over a thousand jin per mu, fair and reasonable land taxes, convenient public ox-carts... To enhance credibility, some unfulfilled but simple new agricultural techniques also appeared in the plots—as long as someone grew curious enough to try them, they would be thoroughly convinced of the content's truth.

Dingding introduced several cases in one breath. Seeing the leaders all gazing off into space, he could not help wondering if his speech had a hypnotic quality. In truth, quite a few had indeed sunk into distant memories, immersed in reveries from when they had watched American dramas like Growing Pains.

Culture's influence far exceeds that of science—this was undeniable fact.

Clap, clap, clap—someone in the meeting room began applauding. Dingding nearly teared up. Someone who understands me... Sikade? What did this have to do with him?

Sikade first placed a high hat upon Dingding as "pioneer of modern arts," then sincerely stated that the Colonial Trade Department's stations in Tianjin, Hangzhou, Shandong, and Later Jin would do their utmost to recruit talent for the Mainland Cultural Infiltration Strategy and support the dissemination of artistic works. Then, amid Dingding's tearful thanks, he diplomatically offered a suggestion: "There should be content in the serialized dramas reflecting Australia-Song's commercial activities. People say we Kun are skilled at all crafts and especially adept at commerce—we should let them see just how adept we truly are. Not only are we good at making money, but everyone who does business with us can profit too. That way, people will certainly come with goods to trade. Why not add the goods we need right into the scripts, haha..."

Damn, Sikade you profiteer—a hundred thousand alpacas stampeded through the Senators' minds. But cursing aside, a massive product placement campaign was thus unveiled.

Ma Qianzhu returned from the restroom, shaking his hands as he walked into the conference room, and found the lively discussion still ongoing. Pleasant Village Stories had already evolved into I Love Xiyang Town. Ma Qianzhu quickly patted Xiao Zishan's shoulder and whispered something, and both laughed happily.

Ma Qianzhu walked back to his seat with a smile. "Let's stop here. For specific artistic creation issues, please discuss privately with Dingding or start a new thread on the BBS. Don't take up everyone's time here." This kind of topic where everyone could chime in required constant steering of discussion direction; otherwise, it could drag on for days without conclusion.

Then he shifted tack, addressing Dingding in a questioning tone: "As a strategic direction, I don't see any problem. The main work is all in cultural product content, which isn't what this meeting is reviewing anyway. But as a proposal, yours seems to have no budget."

"I only covered the first strategic direction just now—cultural carrier delivery. Everyone's valuable suggestions can be discussed privately." Even in his triumphant state, Dingding could not resist putting in another plug for himself before turning around. His right hand swept through the air and pressed heavily upon the table. "This proposal of mine—I don't need a budget, only policy!"

This gesture was a classic shot from Lenin in 1917. Dingding had rehearsed it thousands of times in his mind. Originally, he had wanted to finish the whole story, then conclude with this stylish move and the resounding words "Don't need money" to win a round of amazement. But the Chairman's unconventional question had forced it out early, halving its impact.

Simply put, in the process of delivering cultural products, commercial operations would be used to generate revenue, subsidizing the upstream collection, organization, and processing stages. After Dingding finished his cost and revenue estimates, several leaders with some financial sense found their eyes glazing over. Dumping books could make money—everyone understood that. But how could folk arts and drama make money? By charging copyright fees to performers and troupes?

Intellectual property was often ignored even in the old timeline, let alone in the seventeenth century where such awareness was essentially nonexistent. The multiple-sibling phenomenon among many "century-old brands" in China had fully illustrated this point. As for "stealing skills," that could even become the stuff of legend.

The scripts painstakingly created by the Propaganda Department might sell for a good price at first, but once released, they would most likely be widely pirated. Dingding should not expect to receive any income.

Ma Qianzhu glanced at Wu De, then at Cheng Dong. The confusion written all over their faces showed they did not believe Dingding's plan either. Their silence also indicated that neither Finance nor Planning wanted to offend anyone. Who knew what groundwork Dingding had laid beforehand, or perhaps they simply felt the whole thing did not matter anyway.

Cheng Dong's thoughts at this moment were indeed as Ma Qianzhu imagined. Poking holes in Dingding's plan from a budget rationality angle would not be difficult, but what was the necessity? If Dingding could not find money and the plan fell through, the Finance Ministry would suffer no losses. When necessary, it could even be used as a bargaining chip.

While Ma Qianzhu's gaze wandered, Wu De was also observing the audience's expressions. Finance and the Chairman both silent at once—could there have been some backroom deal beforehand? Either way, this matter had little to do with Wu De, would not consume any materials—let Propaganda handle it.

For the leaders with real power present, Dingding's proposal was essentially theoretical. Never mind him voluntarily requesting no funding—even if he did, it would not cost much budget, negligible in the grand scheme of finances. As for results, since there was no budget, there would be no performance evaluation either. Moreover, cultural infiltration work had been done to varying degrees through various channels over the years. Though this proposal integrated things at the strategic level and proposed some entirely new operational models, in essence, it was somewhat reheating cold rice.

The prospects were tempting, the operability sufficient, but fundamentally there did not seem to be much need for discussion.

Dingding looked somewhat awkwardly at the silent conference room. All the passionate rhetoric he had prepared had no chance to be deployed. He could only swallow and continue his introduction. In an era without communication tools, except for paper novels and similar carriers that could be delivered remotely, all other information exchange depended on personnel mobility. Therefore, in promoting personnel exchange, Dingding listed over a dozen plans in one breath.

"...Establish a study-abroad system to attract mainland youth, including five steps: selection, preparatory, study, employment, and return—letting young people from Ming personally experience Australia-Song life..."

"...Expand Australia-Song Postal Service's business scope, establishing post offices in places like Tianjin and Shanghai where conditions permit, promoting civilian exchange between Ming and Australia-Song..."

"...Establish short-term arts training courses at overseas stations, continuously passing Australia-Song cultural products on to traditional performers..."

Listening, Ma Qianzhu began to smile. This section sounded substantial, but in truth little was new. Most was already contained in other work plans—like the postal service. Li Yunxing's Postal Bureau had already opened branch offices in Kaohsiung and Jeju Island and was currently cooperating with Qiwei on postal agency business for Ming and other East Asian countries. Whether Dingding had conspired with these departments beforehand or simply copied others' plans from work briefings was unknown.

(End of Chapter)